


A Private Audience

by TheAsexualScorpio



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Background Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen - Freeform, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen/Sansa Stark, Infidelity Kink, Mention of childbirth, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, body image issues, but not really, implied infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualScorpio/pseuds/TheAsexualScorpio
Summary: When she is once again rejected by her lord husband, Sansa comes upon the king and queen in the Hand’s private audience chamber, where she is asked to keep the king company.





	A Private Audience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alittlestardustcaught](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlestardustcaught/gifts), [AliceInNeverNeverLand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInNeverNeverLand/gifts).



> I mortally offended alittlestardustcaught and goodqueenalys with terrible puns and objectionable links, so this is my attempt to get them to forgive me. 
> 
> Completely unrelated...I miiiiight have a kink.

Sansa stalked away from the Hand’s chambers, head high and jaw clenched.

Once again, her lord husband had refused her entry into his chambers. He’d desired her when they first married, of that she was certain, but now? When she actually wanted to lay with him? He claimed he was too busy. Almost of its own volition, her hand found its way to her belly. It was softer now, still a bit round even though it had been almost four moons since she’d birthed their son. Perhaps he was trying to spare her the truth: now that she was a mother, he no longer wanted her. She would raise their child, and he would go back to his whores. Before she could depress herself further, she noticed a light coming from the private audience chamber.

Sansa frowned. She had just spoken to her husband, so she knew he was in his own chambers. Who was in the private audience chamber? She crept toward the door and peeked into the room. Queen Daenerys stood before a table strewn with maps and papers. She was glaring over her shoulder at King Jon, who was seated on a couch behind her. Not wanting to disturb them, Sansa started to move away, but she must have made a noise. The king and queen both turned to the door and looked at her expectantly.

Sansa curtsied, trying to ignore the awkwardness of doing so in a dressing gown. “Your graces, forgive me. I did not expect to find you here. I’ll take my leave.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Lady Lannister,” the queen replied. “Stay. The king was just wishing for some company. Who better than his own cousin?”

Sansa pulled the dressing gown tighter around her and tried to will away a blush. “I don’t want to impose…”

“If you were, I would say so. Please come in.”

Reluctantly, Sansa stepped into the private audience chamber.

“Close the door behind you, please. We don’t want to invite anyone who _would_ impose,” Daenerys said.

Sansa did as she was bid and then locked the door for good measure. The queen did not acknowledge her as she crossed the room to the couch behind her, but Jon smiled up at her and made room for her to sit down. For a moment, Sansa sat in silence, unsure of what was expected of her. When the queen said her husband wished for company, she assumed that they would talk as he escorted her back to her chambers. Instead, Daenerys had asked her to stay. Could Jon not speak to his wife if he wished for company? She opened her mouth, and Jon quickly held a finger to his lips. He stood, took a sheath of paper and two quills from the table, and then sat back down beside her. He wrote something at the top of the page and then passed it to her.

_Don’t speak. She won’t appreciate the noise._

Sansa’s brow furrowed, and she looked up at Jon. What did that mean? He cocked his head in the queen’s direction, but that only confused her more. The queen wanted no noise, but she bid Sansa stay and keep Jon company? Sansa took a quill and wrote her own message just beneath his.

_Are you two quarreling?_

Jon gave her a sad smile. _No. My queen is merely dedicated. She used to jape that the Iron Throne was her husband and I was her paramour. That's why she was still in love with me. Her husband has been very demanding as of late._ The look he directed at his wife’s back was wistful.

Sansa watched her as well. The queen was completely absorbed in the papers in front of her, and Sansa wondered if anything short of a wildfire explosion would catch her attention. Sansa took the paper back.

 _Mine own husband has been the same. I actually meant to see him tonight, but he turned me away._ She wrote the last few words hurriedly and shoved the paper back at Jon as soon as she was finished. She looked anywhere but him, flushing when she heard the scratch of Jon’s quill on the paper. A moment later, a hand squeezed her shoulder, the touch warm through her thin dressing gown. When she turned back to Jon, she only found sympathy on his face. He handed her the paper.

_They’ve both had much to occupy them._ ~~_Dany_ ~~ _The queen had this sofa brought here so that she might sleep on it when the need arose. In the last two moons, she’s slept here more than she has in either of our chambers._

Sansa could read the hidden meaning there, and it shocked her. Jon had not lain with his wife in two moons? She didn’t understand. The years since they’d left Winterfell had been kind to Jon and kingship even more so. He’d grown tall and handsome, and even his scars did little to detract from his good looks. The finery he’d worn since becoming king also flattered his lean, graceful frame. Sansa couldn’t imagine denying him. Would that she and Jon were married, she thought ruefully. Neither of them would have this problem.

An idea occurred to Sansa then, one so shocking that she half expected Jon and Daenerys both to somehow hear it and demand she leave and never return, but of course, neither of them did. Jon just stared at her with his self-deprecating smile, and Daenerys focused on her papers. Sansa watched the queen for a long moment. She still hadn’t spoken, not even to ask why she and Jon weren’t talking, which she surely should have found odd. She acted like Sansa and Jon weren’t even in the room. Sansa looked back at Jon and took a fortifying breath as she came to a decision.

She untied the belt of her dressing gown and parted it, revealing the nakedness she’d intended to show her husband. The slide of silk against her skin, the air of the cold room, the fact that she was baring herself to Jon when his wife was no more than a few feet away—it all had Sansa’s nipples beginning to peak, and wetness started to pool between her thighs.

Jon gaped at her for a long moment before shooting a panicked glance at the queen. When she did not react, he turned his attention back to Sansa. The look on his face was easy for Sansa to read.  _What are you doing?!_

Sansa leaned forward, took Jon’s hand, and brought it to her lips. She watched his face as she took the tip of his forefinger into her mouth. His breath hitched, and he darted another terrified look at Daenerys. Sansa’s eyes fluttered closed as she lowered her head, taking his finger all the way into her mouth before pulling it out slowly, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. When his fingertip was pressed against her lower lip, she opened her eyes. Heated want roared through her blood at the sight before her. Jon’s gray eyes had darkened to almost black, and they were heavy-lidded, focused solely on her mouth. His face was flushed, and his breathing had gotten heavier.

Emboldened, Sansa took his finger away from her mouth and moved it to her breast, using his fingertip to circle her nipple. Jon took over then, softly squeezing her breast and tracing the nipple with his thumb. His other hand moved to her other breast, softly squeezing and stroking. Sansa planted her hands behind her and leaned back, her dressing gown falling open even more, and her breath came out in a near-silent sigh as Jon’s hands slid over her shoulders and collarbones, down her sides, and then back up to her breasts. His fingers gently squeezed and tugged at her nipples, rolling them back and forth between his thumbs and forefingers until she was squirming. Her legs seem to part without any input from her, and Sansa’s head fell back as Jon’s fingers trailed down her stomach. As his fingers slid through the spot of hair between her legs, she bit her lip in anticipation.

They both froze when they heard a woman clearing her throat.

As one, their eyes snapped to Daenerys, who had moved to one side, almost to the corner of the table. If she turned her head even slightly, she would see them. She might have already. Sansa waited with bated breath for the queen to _say_ something, wondered if tomorrow she would taste dragonfire. Her heart was pounding so hard that it was all she could hear, but at least a minute passed, and Daenerys didn’t react. She didn’t even seem aware that they were in the room, let alone that her husband was about to fuck another woman on the couch she sometimes slept on. Her attention was solely on her papers.

Jon and Sansa both relaxed, and Jon mouthed, “lie down.” Darting another quick look at Daenerys, Sansa laid back on the couch, and Jon grabbed one of her ankles. He placed it on the top of the couch, bending her leg until the entire lower half of it was lying across the top of the couch. He gently pushed at her other leg until her foot landed flat on the floor. The position left Sansa’s legs spread obscenely wide, and, ridiculously, Sansa thought she might be blushing. She was distracted from her embarrassment by Jon falling to his knees on the floor in front of her. Sansa’s stomach tensed, and she took slow, deep breaths to keep from alerting Daenerys with a gasp. She’d heard rumors of the “Bastard king’s” depravity, but she hadn’t once thought it could be true. She couldn’t imagine _any_ man doing it, couldn’t imagine the purpose—

He licked a slow, broad swath from her opening to the hard nub at the top, and Sansa had to bite her knuckles to keep silent. He did it again, and Sansa jerked at the bolt of pleasure that shot through her. After that, he started licking at her in earnest, his tongue moving over her nub in quick flicks that seemed designed to drive her mad as fast as possible. She planted both feet on either side of his head to arch against him, but he threw one arm across her hips and held her down, pushing his mouth against her. It still wasn’t enough.

The hand that Sansa wasn’t biting found its way to Jon’s hair, tangled in the dark curls, and dragged him closer. The mind-numbing pleasure grew hotter and higher with each stroke of his tongue, and Sansa wondered distantly if she could die from this. Surely her heart was about to beat out of her chest. Perhaps she’d just burst into flames and spare Daenerys the trouble of executing her. Just as she finished that thought, she hurtled over the edge. Her vision went white, and an airless, keening sound passed her lips.

She came back to herself when she felt something tugging on her arms. She allowed Jon to pull her back into a seated position, her dressing gown sliding down her shoulders to settle in the crook of her elbows. She blinked several times and then bit her lip when she realized that Jon had divested himself of his doublet and tunic. She wanted to run her fingers through the hair on his chest and trace his scars. She wanted to gnaw on the toned flesh of his stomach, but before she could do any of that, he unlaced his trousers and pushed them down his hips. He sat back down on the couch, and Sansa's gaze was riveted to his cock, hard and red against his stomach. Its wet tip shone faintly in the room's dim light. Sansa licked her lips.

Jon took her hand and pulled her toward him, urging her to her knees. Sansa sat astride his hips, the tip of his cock so close to her opening that she ached, and she laid her forehead against Jon’s. She watched the way his eyes glazed over as she slowly took him inside her, and once she was fully seated, her own eyes fluttered closed. Her mouth fell open, and she started a little when she felt Jon’s lips on hers. She smiled and kissed him back hungrily, nipping at his lips and sucking his tongue into her mouth. When they broke apart, and Jon’s mouth immediately went to her neck, and Sansa tilted her head to one side to give him better access. She bit back a sigh as he effortlessly found the spots on her neck that made her shudder and writhe, and when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she raised herself to her knees.

Jon gasped softly as she slid almost all the way off him. She sank back down on him with a stifled grunt and then pulled herself back up. She gripped the back of the couch and began to ride him in earnest, rolling and twisting her hips and relishing the shards of sensation that shot through her with every stroke. Her head fell back, and her mouth opened in a silent gasp when Jon captured one of her nipples between his lips. Jon mouthing at her breasts, his hands on her arse, the jagged pleasure of his cock moving inside her, and even the burn in her thighs all came together in a glorious way, pushing her toward bliss. She was on a knife's edge, and she just needed a little more. She took one hand off the couch and stroked the hard bud between her legs until she came again with a bitten off cry. Jon grunted softly as he too found his release a moment later.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and Sansa buried her face in his neck. For a while, they laid there quietly until a pair of hands gathered up Sansa's hair and draped it over one of her shoulders. A pair of lips kissed her shoulder, then her jaw, and finally her temple.

“Was it everything you hoped for, my love?” Dany asked, her breath tickling Sansa’s ear.

She laughed softly. “It was better.” When she'd asked them to do this for her, she hadn't expected it to be this thrilling.

“Jon?”

Jon’s only reply was a groan, and both women laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Jon, Sansa, and Daenerys are married and ruled together like the original Targaryen conquerors. However, they act out a roleplay where Sansa is married to Tyrion and has sex with Daenerys' husband where they could be caught. It's all consensual. No actual infidelity or Dany-bashing/humiliation happens in this fic.


End file.
